Without any thought you career down the right path. Immediately you hear your pursuers to the left drop out of hearing, but the forms to your right accelerate their pace and are getting closer with every step you take. Now as you run you can make out more than just the rustle and crash of running feet. With the sounds of your pursuers you can now hear the clinking of chain mail, and the breathless whispers of commands being given and orders being carried out. Although you can now only hear pursuit to the right, it sounds like there could be as many as thirty creatures after you.
The harder you run the more urgent becomes the pursuit. The trail is clear but the forest has changed, the trees sparser and there is far less undergrowth to hinder movement. You can only run for so long though, and a sudden turn in the path gives you no respite. Your luck has run out.
Ahead the trail ends at a small clearing and a shelf of rock that extends out over a sheer cliff face. There is nothing here but a 50 metre drop to the thick forest below. Somehow you have found yourself at a complete dead end. Turning at the edge of the cliff you wait for your pursuers. Standing there, sweating heavily from the heat of the chase you draw your sword and stand your ground. Slowly your pursuers emerge from the forest, first in two's and three's and then by the dozen. They are Morg and they are as mad as hell.

This book, and its associated books and other documents in the Chronicles of Arborell series are the intellectual property of the author, Wayne F Densley, and all rights are reserved by him. Windhammer is best viewed at 1024 x 768 resolution. Any questions regarding the Chronicles of Arborell can be answered by emailing the author at densleyw@shoal.net.au